We're Not Broken, Just Bent
by wonderfulwizardofthozz
Summary: Marinette's world falls apart for the fourth time in the last ten years. (So does Adrien's.) Who knew it would take their son's funeral for them to reconnect? (Minor character death warning)


_A/N: Fun fact (you know, now that I've gone and made myself cry like three or five times while writing this thing)! They call Hugo 'Vicky' because he liked to read Victor Hugo novels (he started with abridged versions when he was quite small). Anyway, I got the idea for this the other night out of the blue and decided to write it and here we are. 3336k words, minor character death warning (it's at the beginning so you're not attached; don't worry)._

 _A couple of notes from my Hufflepuff writing crew:  
livinglittlelie: "I'm sorry. They tried to stop me." (She wanted me to say that myself, but I'm crediting her appropriately.)  
Leisey: "Say I said you were EEEEEVIIIILL" (Like she didn't write a major character death fic once) (and off in the distance she yells, "THAT WAS ONE TIME")_

 _So, yeah. Enjoy. (More at the end)_

* * *

There were four days in the last decade of Marinette's life that made it seem like her whole world was falling apart.

The first was when she miscarried her fourth pregnancy. Her other three children never knew; Adrien did.

The second was when she and Adrien agreed to separate after nineteen years of marriage. She knew it wasn't working anymore—that they weren't the same lovestruck teenagers who'd gotten married right before university—but it still stung nonetheless.

The third was when they finalized the divorce on their twentieth wedding anniversary. Six years had passed since that day, and it got a little easier each year. The divorce was civil; her children were all old enough to figure out who wanted to live where (they all decided to split their time between their parents, not that Adrien or Marinette would've kept their children away), their friends were respectful, and their families were understanding. Now, with Louis' pending graduation and departure to Italy for university, they were both about to have an empty house on a more permanent basis. _The seasons of life,_ Marinette decided.

The fourth was when Hugo came home from Germany for a weekend to surprise her and ended up in the hospital. Marinette held his hand and barely left his side for a week; Adrien hardly showed up. Hugo's funeral was a week after that.

The funeral passed by in a blur, though Marinette did distinctly remember Louis and Adrien pulling her off of the casket, Emma staring on in shock with her fiancée. Someone was screaming; Alya told her later that it was her. She collapsed into Adrien's arms, vaguely aware of the fact that they'd barely touched in the last decade and yet here they were, clinging to each other while their middle child was being buried.

Adrien kept his arm around her for a little while, but they were quickly separated by the families reaching out to give them support. They reconvened later that evening if only because they were the only two who understood the pain of losing their child.

They sat together and talked and drank tea, finding the silences awkward. Adrien decided to start figuring out what to do with Hugo's belongings to bide the time.

"Obviously we'll keep things that were important to him," Adrien started, scribbling on a piece of paper. Silver hairs were starting to show, but it was almost impossible to tell with his natural blond.

"Right," Marinette agreed.

"Pictures, trinkets, ornaments…"

"Marc will want something."

Adrien looked up at her, confusion written on his face. "Who?"

"Hugo's boyfriend."

"Oh, right. How long have they been dating, again?"

Marinette stared at him. "For _two years_ , Adrien. Gosh, it's like you never knew how to be an effective parent."

Adrien glared but said nothing about her comment. "Can we just get this done?"

She scoffed. "Our son's possessions aren't something to just _get done_. Let's take some time and work on it later."

"Well, _somebody_ has to do it."

"But it doesn't have to be _today_! We've just buried our son, _our son_ , Adrien! Dealing with this can wait!"

"Marinette, we need to get this settled as soon as possible. It'll be easier on us in the long run."

"Says the man who barely showed up to the hospital."

He pointed his pencil at her. "That's not fair. I was away on a trip and you know it."

"And yet you couldn't even be bothered to come back."

"I was backpacking with my father in Brazil! I didn't even hear about Hugo until three days after the accident! By the time we could get to an airport, there were storms, and I was grounded for another eighteen hours! It was completely out of my control! Do you honestly think I didn't want to be there for Hugo?"

Marinette made no attempts to hide the bitterness in her voice. "Well, you weren't there for our marriage."

Adrien laughed, appalled. "Yeah? Neither were you."

Her heart sank in her chest. "How can you say that? _I_ was the one who wanted us to go to counseling! _I_ was the one who tried to reinstate date nights a-and rearranged _my_ schedule to spend time with you, _just_ you, without the kids!"

"You wouldn't have needed to if you'd just picked a normal job, like working at the bakery!"

"Well, I'm sorry I wanted to pursue _all_ of my dreams, unlike someone I could mention who up and quit after getting his Ph.D. in physics!"

"You know your parents' bakery would be nothing without me anymore! They're too old to manage it alone!"

"And your father's company would be dying without me! You knew what I was in for when you encouraged me to accept it!"

"But I didn't know you were going to act just like he did!"

Her jaw dropped as she floundered for words. She pointed at the door, her voice low and even. "Get out, Agreste. Get out of my house."

"This is _my_ house, Marinette. You haven't lived here since the divorce. Hell, you haven't even _been_ here since the divorce! You can't tell me what to do in my own home."

"Fine. In that case, I'm leaving. I'll be over tomorrow since you're so insistent on getting it done." Marinette picked up her purse and her shoes, pulling her pantyhose off so she could walk outside without getting a run in them. She paused at the door before she opened it. "You know, sometimes I wish things would go back to the way they were when the kids were little. We were happy, they were happy…" She laughed softly. "Do you remember the time Hugo thought he could be Ladybug and tried to swing down the staircase with his toy yoyo?" Her laughter picked up. "And how the string snapped and he fell flat on his bum two steps from where he'd started?" She wiped a few errant tears away, grateful when Adrien's soft laughter joined hers.

"And then we rushed him to the hospital because we were worried he'd pulled something in his arm when he was really just scared because it didn't go according to plan." Adrien wiped his own tears, eventually meeting Marinette's gaze. "I miss our son."

She sighed. "It's gonna be like that for the rest of our lives, isn't it?"

Adrien nodded slowly. "Probably."

Marinette nodded in agreement. "I really should get going. I know I won't sleep, and I might as well do it in my own bed. Thanks for the tea." She turned back to the door, jumping when it opened before she touched it.

Emma came in, Louis in tow.

" _Maman!_ What're you doing here?" Louis gave a finger gun gesture to her, laughing to himself.

"In case you couldn't tell, he's drunk off his ass. One of his friends called me to come and get him because they didn't think Papa'd want to see anybody but me. Lazy pieces of shit. Can't believe I left Holly home alone for this." Emma closed the door behind them. "Hi, Maman. Papa."

Marinette hugged her when Louis was steady on his own. "Hey, sweetie."

Louis slowly made his way to the couch. "You guys should've seen it."

Adrien sighed, knowing how his son was when he was drunk. "Seen what, Lou?"

Louis shrugged, wrapping himself in a blanket. "It was awesome."

Marinette moved automatically to get him a glass of water, leaving her things on the table by the door. "I can't say I blame him. I'd rather be drunk right now, too." She poured the water and left the glass on the side table next to him. She sat on the arm of the couch, thoughts of leaving now forgotten.

"Can't say you blame him? _You_ didn't have to go pick him up! He's drunk out of his mind, probably has mild alcohol poisoning, and is going to have the world's worst hangover tomorrow all because you two suck at keeping track of your children!" Emma put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't...I didn't mean…"

Adrien glared at her. "Don't you dare speak to your mother like that, do you understand me? You might be independent, but that was uncalled for."

Louis piped up. "Notice how he didn't defend himself in that."

Marinette brushed the dark hair from his forehead. "Louis, hush."

"Oh sure, be nice to Louis when _he_ says something wrong, but _I_ get in trouble even though I'm twenty-three and getting married in a few weeks!"

Marinette spoke sharply. "Emma, he's drunk, and he's grieving just as much as you are, so chill out. There's no need for that here."

"Oh, so you and Papa are on the same side as long as it's against me?"

Adrien ran his fingers through his hair, his tone soft. "That's not what she's saying, Em."

Louis giggled. "She's saying you're acting like a bitch," he singsonged.

Marinette bopped him on the back of his head. "Louis Agreste-Dupain, you stop that. Drink some water and get to bed."

Emma laughed in the same incredulous tone Adrien had used earlier. "Incredible! You chewed my ass out the minute I came home that drunk!"

"And your father or I will talk to him in the morning, as we did for you. And, by the way, _you_ came home drunk when you were _thirteen_ after you were drinking unsupervised with your friends. Louis is old enough to make those decisions for himself, even if they're poor decisions."

"The same way you and Papa decided to get divorced?"

Louis leaned over, resting his head on Marinette's lap. "Maman and Papa sure are great at making decisions. You were their second bad decision, you know. Marriage being their first, of course."

"Yeah? Well, that makes you their third."

"Emma, that's _enough_."

"Em's right, you know. Hugo was always the good one."

Adrien and Marinette made eye contact while their grown children bickered, coming to a wordless decision that Marinette finally voiced.

"Okay, it's late, and we all need some sleep even though none of us are going to easily get any except for this one over here."

Louis raised his hand. "She means me."

"We all know who I mean. Okay, Emma, call Holly and tell her you'll be back home tomorrow unless you really want to brave the rain again. I'm sure your father still has your room set up like it was—"

"I do."

"—Adrien and I will get Lou into bed, and I'll take the guest room. We can talk about all this again in the morning when we are rested and not as prone to slitting each other's throats."

Louis giggled again as Adrien helped him stand, tossing the blanket aside. "We're always prone to slitting each other's throats. Hugo's the only one that keeps us sane."

They all went quiet, his drunken truth hitting them as though it were lightning and they were lightning rods.

Louis started crying first. He curled into Adrien's embrace, clinging to him desperately though he was a good three inches taller than his father. "I want Vicky back, Papa."

Adrien smiled sadly at the nickname, ignoring the tears running down his own face. "So do I, Lou."

Emma stepped over and hugged them both, biting her lip to stop the emotional pain from reaching in and ripping her heart out of her chest.

Marinette hugged herself, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

"Mari."

She looked up, meeting Adrien's teary gaze.

"Come here."

She stepped forward; the crying huddle enveloped her until everybody was all cried out for the time being.

When they'd been silent for a while, Adrien planted a kiss on each of their foreheads—including Marinette's. "Your mother's right. We should go to bed. Come on, Lou."

Marinette and Emma watched the two of them stumble up the stairs, laughing each time Louis slipped and swore. Marinette wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders when the boys were out of sight and kissed her hair.

Emma chuckled. "They sure know how to put the _fun_ in _funeral_."

Marinette shook her head. "You always were your father's daughter. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Emma shrugged. "I'd have snapped at me, too. Sorry I was acting like a bitch."

"What can I say? You get it from your mother." They shared a tired smile. "Go call your wife."

"We're not married yet, Maman."

"Whatever. You will be soon enough. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Emma wandered upstairs, passing Adrien on the way up. They exchanged goodnights, and Adrien came to sit by Marinette on the couch.

She laid her head on his shoulder, humming when he put his head on hers. "So, the kids are in bed."

He snorted and laughed loudly. "What are you trying to say?"

"Remember when we'd lock the door and seduce each other in the shower after a long day?"

"No. We always got interrupted. 'Maman, Lou's snoring too loud.' 'Papa, Em's hitting the wall and it woke me up.' 'Vicky won't turn the light off because he's reading his stupid book and it shines in my room.'" He settled as she did, their bodies remembering how they used to fit together. "It was the thought that counted, though."

"Hey, we tried to finish what we'd started. It just happened to be a little past two in the morning if we had determined kids."

"You always gave the best blow jobs, though."

She smacked his chest. "I'm the only one who's given you a blow job."

"While that's true, that still makes them the best."

"I'm pretty sure any blow job is a good blow job."

He thought about it. "That's debatable. You throwing up was not exactly pleasurable, if you get my drift."

"How was I supposed to know I'd gotten food poisoning?"

"I don't know, stomach pain?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know I get bad cramps. I just thought it was that. I apologized, didn't I?"

"You did. And then I held your hair all night and took you to the hospital the next morning. I don't know if I ever told you this, but Hugo came up to me that day—it was a Saturday, right? Had to have been; they weren't in school. Anyway, he came up to me with his big eyes full of tears. 'Papa?' he asked. 'Yes, Vicky?' 'Is Maman gonna die?' I told him no, that you were just sick, but he didn't believe me. I found him outside our door the next morning with his little elephant tucked under his head for a pillow."

"I don't think you ever did tell me that. That's sweet."

They sat in silence for a while more, their hands drifting together as a tangible anchor for each other.

"Adrien?"

"Hm?"

"I know we're civil towards each other, but it really sucks just being civil. Do you think...do you think we could be friends again?"

"I'd like that."

"Me, too."

Adrien yawned, finally checking his watch. "It's half three. We should take our own advice and go to bed."

"Uh, one more question."

"Shoot."

"I don't want to be alone tonight. Can I sleep in your bed?"

"Of course. I still have that shirt you liked to sleep in if you want it. You know, I always wondered why you didn't keep it when you left."

Marinette stood up and stretched, holding his hand on their way to their old bedroom. "The appeal was taking it from you. I always liked having to search for it wherever you'd thrown it in your closet."

"You took pleasure in stealing my clothes?"

"And stealing your heart."

They paused just before the threshold. "What happened to us, Marinette?"

"I don't know. Life, kids...you name it. Everything and nothing. Wait, what are you doing? Put me down!"

Adrien carried her over the threshold. "This is the first time we've come here as a divorced couple. Can you blame your hopeless romantic of an ex-husband?" He set her gently on the bed, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, I can!" She sat there while he rummaged up the shirt and an old pair of shorts. "Thanks. I'll go change."

They changed separately, both struck by how odd it was that they used to fall asleep completely bare and now felt the need for modesty.

Marinette snuck into her side of the bed when she was finished, wriggling into the covers to get comfortable. "You got a new mattress."

"Honestly, that's about the only thing of mine that's different. You know I hate change."

They reached over the covers to hold hands, giggling when they realized that they'd always done that when they slept in the same bed and didn't want to cuddle.

"I've missed you, Marinette."

"I've missed you, too, Adrien."

"You know, Hugo really is...was…" Adrien took a deep breath. "Hugo really was the best of the two of us."

"Does that make Em and Lou the worst?"

"Some days, but so was Vicky sometimes, too."

"We didn't do too badly with them, though I'm not sure I'll ever forgive you for introducing our daughter to your bad puns." Marinette squeezed his hand affectionately, missing the feel of his miraculous under her fingers.

"You taught Lou how to sew and he sewed the vintage curtains to the floor." Adrien chuckled. "But Hugo never did that, did he?"

"No, he never did. He watched and learned and stayed out of the way until we were ready to reconcile and took us by the hand and said so seriously, 'Maman, you need to apologize to Papa. He loves you and it's not right.' He's always been an old soul."

"You think he got that from the kwamis when they were around?"

Marinette hummed. "I think they nurtured it, sure. He would've been like that anyway, though."

"He really is...was...shit, I have to stop doing that—" a sob caught in his chest "—he really _was_ an old soul."

Marinette felt the tears stinging her eyes. "Is that why he had to leave us so soon? His soul was just too old for his body and he couldn't stay here anymore?" She erupted again, too weak to wipe her tears away.

Adrien reached over and pulled her close, ignoring the pang of grief that worked its way into his chest and down his arms into his hands, eventually encompassing his whole self.

They cried into each other again, eventually falling still with soft hiccups.

"Adrien?"

"Hm?"

"What do you think Hugo thinks of us right now?"

Adrien took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think he'd laugh at us and say, 'When I said that you'd get back together over my dead body, I didn't mean to take it literally.'" He shook his head. "Or maybe something like, 'The day that Emma and Louis get along for more than an hour is the day I die!' No, that's not right…"

"No, he'd say that, but he'd also tell us that he was glad that we two were getting along. He'd tell me to listen more, talk less, and remember the best I'd seen in you when we first got married."

"And he'd tell me to hold my ground by being gentle instead of forceful. And then he'd talk about willow trees and how they sway but ultimately stay firm in their roots, keeping everything grounded."

"And then he'd tell us not to fight—and to kiss and get over it if we did."

"And to not let mourning get in the way of life, to celebrate it instead."

Marinette sighed. "Do you think our son is happy?"

"You know I do."

She nodded, relaxing further into his embrace. "Goodnight, Adrien."

"Goodnight, Marinette."

For the first time in seven years, the two of them fell asleep in the same bed.

For the first time in ten years, the five—no, six of them were together.

And there was peace among the pain.

* * *

 _A/N: The title comes from the P!nk song Just Give Me A Reason, and the whole line is, "We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again." This was originally_ _ _not_ going to be a one shot, but look at me! I made it short so I didn't prolong your suffering! (My Hufflepuff writing crew is angry with me for inflicting this upon the world, but that's another problem for another day.)_

 _Do Adrien and Marinette get married again someday? I don't know. It would definitely take a long time, and they would both need a reason to pursue it, but they are determined to be friends again. And that'll be a process, but I think it's something they both ultimately want._

 _As part of her grieving process, Marinette takes all of Hugo's old shirts and makes a quilt for everybody: one for Marc (who eventually gets over his heartbreak but never forgets his first love), one for Emma and Holly and their new baby, one for Louis, one for Adrien, and one for herself._

 _Oh! And Emma's expecting in this fic. She names him Hugo :)_

 _Please direct all crying and other emotions to the box below._

 _xoxo -wwot_


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